Revolutionary
by ExquisiteRose
Summary: Fanmix drabbles for Queer as Folk. Warnings: Drug use, cursing, sexual situations, etc. Slash and femslash. Pairings: Brian/Justin, Ben/Michael, Emmett/Ted, Melanie/Lindsay, with Brian/Michael friendship. Not song-fics. Ch 1-4 being edited for any grammar/spelling mistakes, and any inconsistancies.
1. Track 1: One More Day

**A/N: This is a fanmix. (Inspired by Lucifer Rosemaunt's fanmix for PotO). This one is for Queer As Folk, and the pairings will vary, but it's mostly B/J. There will also be some for Harry Potter, Glee, Inception, etcetera, obviously in a different 'story', as they're different categories. Not sure how many drabbles/ficlets will be done for each, or when I'll update. Probably ten or fifteen, most likely once or twice a week, but don't quote me on that-it may be more, or it may be less!**

**A challenge where, in the time frame of the song, I write and finish a drabble/ficlet. The only editing I will do will be spell check. (I admit, I failed this time. This drabble, if you can even call it that anymore, got way out of hand, and I found I couldn't stop typing (the next one will, most likely, be drabble length appropriate). I listened to the song four to five times before I finished. *Ashamed* Next time, I'll do better!).**

_All chapters edited for spelling, grammar, and clarification errors. (7/9/12)_

**Note: Warnings/rating will vary with each chapter. Overall, it's rated M. You'll see, although it wasn't planned. **

**Pairing(s): Brian/Justin, Ben/Michael.**

**Warnings: Slash. Drug use. Sexual situations.**

**Rating: M.**

**Word Count: 878**

_One More Day-Verve_

_I have changed, and I've realized I was wrong._

_I was wrong._

_Now, I'll never see you face anymore._

_Oh, my love, I'd give anything for one more day with you._

Babylon was was in full swing, and the gang was in its usual perch. Ben and Michael were watching Brian, who was taking some of Anita's E, with identical disapproving expressions. Deciding to try to put a stop to the excessive drug abuse and sexual adventures, even for Brian Kinney, stud of Liberty Avenue, Michael began to make his way over to Brian. Before he could get very far, Ben placed a restaining hand gently on Michael's shoulder, giving him a questioning look. _Are you sure?_ it said. Micahel nodded, then walked forward again, and this time, Ben didn't stop him.

"Brian," he yelled when he reached his friend. Brian didn't react. Michael shook his shoulder, and yelled Brian's name again, trying to be heard over the booming music of the night club. "Hey, get lost!" he shouted at some twink who was trying to take Brian to the back room. Brian, in his drugged state, was being pulled along easily. "Get off of him, you creep!"

The twink looked offended, and spat at Michael, "What the fuck ever! That stupid blonde boy isn't here anymore! He's free goods!" Brian had flinched at the mention of the 'stupid blonde boy'; there was no mistaking he was talking about Justin.

"Not tonight, he's not! So get lost," Michael reiterated firmly. The twink left grudgingly, muttering obscenities the whole time. "Brian," he called softly. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Michael directed Brian to the men's restrooms, which really weren't any better than the back room. Considering there _was _a back room, you'd think they'd go there and let the people who needed to piss, piss.

"Brian?" Michael's heart stopped. He knew that voice. Brian gasped in a deep breath, his eyes darting around, before settling on an object just over Michael's shoulder. His eyes were wide, and he looked surprisingly aware, a stark contrast to just a few seconds ago, where he had appeared to be one of the undead. Michael closed his eyes, taking a stabling breath, for both his and Brian's sake. "What's wrong with him?" Justin asked. "What's wrong with Brian?"

"What do you care?" Michael asked bitingly as Brian said indignantly, "Nothing's wrong with me!"

Justin's eyebrows rose. "Please don't try to act as though you weren't comatose on the floor there, Brian; no one's buying it. And.. I _don't _care," Justin tacked on, trying to appear unaffected. He failed, but the words stung, if the way Brian recoiled was any indication.

"Where's Ian?" Brian asked indifferently, or seemingly indifferent, rather. "He's not lazing about the club with his violin begging for money, is he?"

Justin's eyes hardened. "No, _Ethan's_ not," he bit out. "He went to get drinks. What do you care anyway?"

"I don't." Those two words, so much more believable than Justin's feeble attempt, went through Justin like a knife.

"Alright," Justin said shakily. He seemed calm, but his breath was speeding up and his cheeks were flushing. "Fine, well, I didn't expect anything else. 'Don't know why I would. It doesn't matter anyways; I love _Ethan_."

Brian's eyes flashed. He stalked towards Justin, pushed him against the wall, and pressed his hands against it, effectively closing Justin in. "You don't mean that," he breathed against Justin's ear making him shudder. "Your body doesn't mean it." He ran a finger down Justin's chest until he reached the button of his jeans.

Whispering hotly into Justin's ear as he palmed him through his pants, he said, "Does Ian make you hot like I do? Does he make your length harden as fast as I do? Do you claw his back when he fucks you? Do you beg like a wanton whore for more; faster, harder, deeper, like you did so nicely for me?" Justin whined high in his throat as Brian unzipped his pants, gripping him, taking him to his climax quickly; too quick. "Do you, Justin? Do you love him as much as you love me?"

Justin shook his head wildly, his hips stuttering into Brian's hand. "No," he gasped out in confession. "No, Brian. _Please_," he begged when Brian's hand had stopped moving.

"Say it," Brian demanded.

"I don't love him. I don't. I love you, I've always loved you." Tears were falling down Justin's face as he said this, defeated, desperate, and ashamed. "Please, Brian. Touch me."

Hoisting Justin up against the bathroom wall, forcing the blonde to wrap his legs around him in order to remain upright, he wiped the tears from Justin's face with his free hand. Capturing the plump lips with his own, Brian groaned softly and fisted a hand into Justin's golden locks. He thrusted his hips against Justin's, both of them moaning from the friction. "Say it again," Brian said forcefully as he rotated his hips.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." Justin repeated the words over and over like a mantra, sometimes overlapping, speaking gibberish in his haste to comply and from the strength of his impending orgasm. "I love you, Brian," he cried out as he came.

Brian released as well with one final thrust, groaning against Justin, legs feeling like jelly. He rested his forehead against Justin's and sighed. "Me, too," he mumbled.

Justin's eyes snapped open. "What?" he asked disbelievingly.

Brian looked away from him, spotted Michael from the corner of his eye. "Me, too."

**A/N: Brian was maybe a bit OOC, which I just realized. Sorry about that, if it bothered you. I think it fits, but, then, I'm not always the most objective with my writing, which is why I need you, reviewers!**

**So, please leave a review, yes? Tell me what you think!**

**Also, tell me if **_**you **_**think I should add more drabbles to this fanmix, if you'd like to see that. I plan to, but feedback always helps;)**


	2. Track 2: Two Kinds of Happiness

**A/N: This is connected to the last drabble, but can be read seperately. I'll not be doing this again, as it's a one-time choice.**

**A Note: I did listen to the song twice, I'll admit. In my defense, I'm still a little rusty. But, it's less times than the first one! That gives me some points, right? ^_^**

**Pairing: Brian/Justin.**

**Rating: T, for cursing.**

**Warnings: Ethan bashing, if you haven't figured out that that is a given.**

**Word Count: 440**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Queer as Folk. It belongs to Cowlip and Showtime.**

_Two Kinds of Happiness; the Strokes._

_One is an instinct, and one takes some will._

_One makes you laugh, and one makes you kill._

_One's the means, and one's for the end._

The deal he and Brian had made last time hadn't worked. Maybe it was a better idea altogether to just forget about the deal. If you think about you're limitations, what you can and can't do, then, eventually, naturally, you want to break free. If you were doubting you're relationship enough to make this deal, to put these barriers, then, really, it was only a matter of time.

Ethan was a nuissance, and Justin wasn't sure how to get rid of him. Obviously, breaking up with him and moving out hadn't sent the message across that he wanted Brian, and not him. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. Brian had no idea Ethan was still trying to get in contact with him. Of course, Brian had his suspicions, and he was always looking for reasons to get Ethan unawares without a reason anyway.

But, honestly, it had been three months since he and Ethan parted ways (or since Justin "left the pathetically starving artist for someone much more worthwhile, in _every _implication of the word" as Brian said). Yet, Ethan seemed to be particularly adamnant in trying to "reclaim" Justin, although Justin was unsure of what type of reclaiming that was, precisely. He'd never bottomed for Ethan, so for Ethan that, meaning his ass, was unchartered territory, meaning it still belonged to the one and only Brian Kinney.

Condsidering how obvious Justin allowed _that _fact to become, you'd think Ethan would understand, and let it be. Justin shook his head. Some people were just that daft, he supposed.

Hearing his phone ring, the one Brian returned to him, telling him, under no uncertain terms, that he was always to have it on him, and was always to answer his calls, he was swift to answer it. "Hello?"

"Justin," Ethan greeted. Justin cringed. Why didn't he get it?

"What do you want, Ethan?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, a habit he must have picked up from Brian.

"I'm outside, actually, and I was wondering if you would come down.. or if I could come up?" Justin gagged a little. Just the thought of Ethan's over-cologned self permeating Brian's scent in the loft made him want to spill out the contents of his stomach. "That's _not _happening, Ethan."

"Is Brian there? Is that why?" Ethan sneered.

"What does that matter to you?" Justin asked defensively.

"So, he's not there!" Ethan sounded triumphant. Justin wanted to punch him.

"Will you please just go?"

"I'll stay out here all day, if I have to!" he heard Ethan shout stubbornly.

Justin actually laughed at that. "It's your funeral," he said cheerily before hanging up the phone.

Smiling mischieviously, he dialed Brian's number. "Brian! You'll never guess who's outside the loft..."

Fin.

**A/N: This was just kind of wrapping some things up. You could leave what happens to your imagination. (*Hint, hint* Guess who ran into Ethan?) :D**

**The next drabble is a Ben/Michael drabble/ficlet with Hunter.**

**Please review:)**


	3. Track 3: Gratisfaction

**A/N: .. I guess I lied about not doing another connected drabble. I honestly don't like saying no to requests. I thought about it, and you guys can thank the Strokes for this being continued, as it was inspired by their song:)**

**A Note: I listened to the song three and a half times.. :l**

**Pairing: Brian/Justin.**

**Rating: T.**

**Warnings: Ethan bashing. Violence. Cursing. Possessive!Brian.**

**Word Count: **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Queer as Folk. It belongs to Cowlip and Showtime.**

_Gratisfaction; the Strokes_

_He got punched in the mouth for _

_Sticking his nose in other people's business._

_No good solution, always on the verge of some revolution._

_With tough luck, it may take a thousand years,_

_But I think we can do it.._

Ethan was a persistant little shit that didn't understand words like 'unwanted' or 'leave', something that can be inferred by the fact that he was _still _outside of Brian's loft when Brian got there.

When Brian had received the call from Justin saying that Ethan was outside of his loft and refused to leave, he had half a mind to drive over immediately, work be damned, to teach Ethan a lesson, one that anyone with a functioning brain should be able to comprehend with minimal difficulty: Brian Kinney does _not _share what is his. And Justin was most definitely and assuredly _his_.

Even when Justin had left, he had still belonged to Brian, the knowledge of this comforting to Brian. Justin had been in love with the idea of love, not in love with Ethan. So, it was all a matter of time. How Ethan still didn't understand was a mystery, as Brian had thought even someone as dense as him could grasp this quite simply. Apparently, he gave Ethan too much credit.

"Do you plan to play stalker to Justin's victim all day?" Brian asked Ethan with a raised eyebrow.

Turning around quickly in surprise, Ethan glared at Brian. "I'm not stalking him."

"Oh, sure you are! That's why you brought your violin with you, so you could attempt to serenade him back into your arms, like a fairytale." Brian's said, voice growing more cruel as he continued. "Or did you bring it because you're so desperate for money that you've decided to take residence outside of our building in the hopes that Justin will feel sympathy for your pathetic state and give you a few measley dollars?" Brian said, peering critically at his fingertips, seemingly ignoring Ethan's presence, as though he were not even worth his acknowledgement, but for insults.

Face reddening in anger, Ethan puffed up like a bullfrog. "I'm here to win Justin back. I know he still loves me."

"Sure, he does. I mean, who can resist greasy hair and a goatee?" Brian asked sarcastically. "I'm sure he's _dying _to see you; that must be the reason he hasn't come down, even though you've been waiting for," Brian checked his watch, flashing his expensive watch at Ethan, "an hour."

Ethan scowled at him. "Whatever. Just because you have money doesn't mean you can treat me like scum. I treated Justin like a prince, even if I didn't have that much money," Ethan stated proudly.

"There's nothing noble about being poor, Ian," Brian said, waving his hand dismissively, effectively ending that arguement. "In any case, who said it was money that made Justin return to me? You must have known that he didn't love you, that you were just a substitute," Brian taunted visciously.

Ethan clenched his fists. "I'm sure that's why he screamed my name and professed his love to me daily when I fucked him."

Brian's jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Ethan gulped. Stepping closer to Ethan, causing him to take a panicked step back, Brian spat, "I'd believe that if it weren't so _obvious _what a nelly bottom you are." Ethan flinched. "Even if you were man enough to top, it is highly doubtful, meaning there is no chance in the world, that Justin would have stooped so low to bottom for you." Stepping around Ethan, he whispered one more word of advice, "Don't _ever _come back again. I won't hesitate initiate phyical violence next time I'm feeling provoked."

Ethan fumed. Angry, he yelled at Brian, "Go back to your little cockwhore, then. See if I care! Nothing, but a fucking _slut_, he was. Better if you take him, he was filthy and tainted anyways!"

Brian halted, his body tense in anger. Turning around, he stalked towards Ethan, pulling an arm back, closing his fist, and then swinging it forward, landing a punch directly to Ethan's jaw, the _crack! _of the connection signally that a bone broke from the ferocity of the hit, causing Ethan to topple over and fall on his ass. Kneeling down in front of Ethan, he growled, "Talk about Sunshine like that again, and see if I don't murder you're sorry ass. Now, collect your crummy violin and yourself, and _get the fuck out of here _before I _escort _you out myself," Brian threatened.

Standing up, he wiped his hands on his pants, trying to get rid of any germs Ethan may have transmitted, sent Ethan one more scathing look, and walked away.

When he stepped out of the elevator and made his way into the loft minutes later, he smiled secretly to himself. Justin smiled his million watt Sunshine smile at him when he told him that Ethan had left and wouldn't be bothering them ever again.

**A/N: As a note, I do _not_ believe that being a bottom makes you any less of a man at all; it was just something viscious to use against Ethan. I hope I did not offend anyone (except Ethan) by including that, as it sincerely was _not_ my intention.**

**I forgot the last two times, for some reason, but I generally respond through reviews at the end of each chapter, so I'll take the time to do that now:**

**to itzy68: Thank you:) Ethan is most definitely not a favorite of mine, either. He's a bit of a drag.**

**to TMack25: Thank you for reviewing! I elaborated on the drabble twice, so I hope that now, your curiosity, for now there, is quenched. I wouldn't know what to write next, there, since I really hadn't intended any continuations of that specific one.. Well, I hope you enjoyed them:)**

**As always everyone, please leave a review for me:D And thank you everyone who alerted/favorited!**


	4. Track 4: What Ever Happened?

**A/N: Hey there! I really thought I'd have been able to update before this because life on the road (I'm on the truck with my dad-currently in Barstow, California) doesn't exactly provide a lot of time for writing. Anyways, I got some inspiration and free time, so yeah! :D**

**A note: I wanted to know if you guys wanted to suggest songs that I could listen to, and write a drabble about. I think it'd be nice instead of me thumbing through my songs thousands of time waiting for the right song and the right time. Consider it, then leave a review with a song choice! Ah, yes, and I don't quite recall the scene where Brian gets diagnosed with cancer, so here's an after-the-fact scene where it hits him.**

**And it was two and a half times, this drabble! :)**

**Rating: T.**

**Warnings: Angst. I'd like to remind you guys that these are not supposed to be in chronological order, and the last three drabbles were exceptions, so be prepared for the drabbles to be tossed into entropy! It's one of those "Oh-shit-I-have-cancer" moments for Brian.**

**Word Count: 705**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Queer as Folk. It belongs to Cowlip and Showtime.**

_What Ever Happened?; the Strokes._

_I want to be forgotten, _

_And I don't want to be reminded._

_You say, "Please don't make this harder."_

_No, I won't, yet._

Brian was sure that, once realization fully set in that he had cancer, his heart stopped beating. Not immediately; it stuttered, fluttering irregularly like a fly's wings, the glug of his blood thrumming through his veins could be heard pounding, _pounding_ in his ears. He felt lightheaded, with all that blood rushing to his head; he almost passed out. Stabling himself on the edge of the bar, he took a deep breath, trying to regain composure when he saw Justin heading his way. His palms were sweaty, and his forehead was clammy. He hoped Justin wouldn't notice.

"Brian," Justin called over the _thumpa_ _thumpa_ of Babylon, "hey." He was smiling his million-watt smile, all bright, white teeth and long, blond hair. Brian attempted to smile back, but it came out as a grimace that could pass for a half-hearted smirk; he didn't think it'd be too out of place. Justin cocked his head to the side curiously, almost like he was sizing Brian up, measuring his worth. In Brian's dizzy, exhausted, and shocked state, he almost squirmed from the intense gaze. Almost; he couldn't give the gig up. "You look different," Justin declared.

"Different?" Brian huffed. "Something in your eyes, twat?"

Justin frowned, and stepped closer to Brian. He leaned in close, so close Brian could feel his hot breath puffing on his neck. Justin gave a small kiss to his skin, his tongue peeking out momentarily to taste the salty skin, and he breathed in Brian's essence. "Is something the matter, Brian?" he asked concernedly.

Brian quirked an eyebrow. He wondered if Justin could tell, just by the taste of his sweat, the smell of it, that he was anguished. "I'm fine, why do you ask?" he asked drolly, looking towards the bar and clinking his empty shot glass against the counter. The bartender came, and refilled his Jim Beam.

Justin's frown deepened. "Because you look like shit," he stated bluntly. Brian scowled at him. "Seriously, Brian," he persisted. Brian rolled his eyes; his blond was so stubborn. "Is it your mother?" he whispered. Brian's grip on his shot glass tightened. His mother. _Shit_. He'd have to tell her. Thanks a lot, Sunshine.

"It has nothing to do with her," Brian said scathingly, looking disinterestedly into the sea of men writhing and dry humping, all sweaty and hot. Justin stepped into his line of vision, and Brian glared.

"Then?" Justin prompted.

Brian looked away, acknowledging Justin wasn't going to give up, then returned his gaze to Justin. "I'm tired," he admitted. He wasn't lying; he was practically dead on his feet with exhaustion, and his body was boneless and languid.

Justin didn't appear satisfied with his answer, but let it drop, turning his head up at an angle to look in Brian's eyes as he bit his lip temptingly, letting his tongue swipe across his plump bottom lip every once and a while. "Too tired to fuck me?" he challenged, giving Brian a chance for a quick and welcome subject change he could lose himself in.

Brian wet his lips, feeling himself harden. "Never too tired for that, Sunshine," he said with a leer.

Justin laughed breathlessly, aroused, and swept his hands in a grand gesture, "Lead the way."

Brian stepped forward and almost fell, but caught himself again on the bar's counter. Regaining his footing, he pulled at Justin's arm to bring him close to his body, revelling in his warmth. He caught Justin's lips in a scorching kiss, grabbing his ass, before pulling back. Through the lust hazed eyes of Justin's cloudy blue, he could see the concern and his heart clenched. Shaking his head, he ignored the pleading look in Justin's eyes, and pulled him out of Babylon.

If Justin couldn't let it go, he'd fuck him until he couldn't remember his own name. And, in the morning, when he'd remember again that 'something was wrong with Brian', he'd fuck him again and again, in the shower, the bed, the wall, the kitchen counter, until his ass was so sore he'd let it go, so that, _finally_, when he remembered something was bothering him, it'd be too late after the fact, and Brian could deflect. And deflect he would.

He was becoming very good at that.

**A/N: So, thoughts? Songs? Reviews? Yeah, it'd be nice:)**


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